Secret Worlds
by Juxtaposie
Summary: Chapter five: Women and cats will do as they please.  Kisuke, Yoruichi, and a beginning that has yet to see an end. Spoilers.
1. A Beginning

**Secret Worlds: A Beginning  
**

_Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer._

* * *

Things were boring and blurry until he was finally sitting down: his mother's fingers combing through his unruly hair as they had climbed aboard the palanquin; the sights and sounds and smells of the outside world he wasn't allowed to visit yet but wasn't really interested in; her fingers again, pulling harder this time (she even licked her palm, to his utter mortification) as they had stood in the courtyard of the Shihouin estates, waiting for their attendants to exchange pleasantries with those of the Shihouin family. She had kept on combing and tugging and straightening right up until the very moment the shoji had opened, and his father – who had arrived much earlier that day, to talk things over – had risen and beckoned his wife and son into the room. 

The princess was there, sitting quietly beside her mother, gazing at the floor. He supposed she was pretty, but he didn't really like girls. They were silly, and only wanted to do stupid stuff. If they got to play together, she would probably just want to show him her dolls, or play house.

While the adults talked, the children began to take stock of eachother. It started as hesitant glances on his part, and blatant staring on hers. She wasn't shy about it. He could feel her eyes running over him – across his messy hair and recently washed face, his stiff, stuffy clothes and bony little feet – like ice water trickling down his spine. She didn't smile, and she didn't frown: she just _stared_. It made him uneasy.

"Yoruichi," the girl's mother said, with a simpering smile that was almost genuine. "Why don't you take Kisuke outside for a walk in the gardens, hmm?"

The Princess murmured acquiescence, rising easily in her elaborate little kimono, seeming to glide across the floor as she came to stand before him. He glanced at his mother, who was smiling and nodding encouragingly, and took the small, dark hand Yoruichi offered him.

It was calloused and rough; not at all what he had been expecting. It was like his, and not like his mother's.

A servant slid the door open for them, pressing her face to the floor as she bowed her young mistress and the honored guest out. As soon as it was shut again, Yoruichi dropped his hand, scowling at him as she scrubbed her palm on her yukata.

"Sorry," he said, giving her a sheepish smile. "Sweaty hands."

She sniffed and moved off down the path, plucking a reed from the edge of the koi pond and using it to switch the heads off of the fluffy pink flowers clustering around the bushes. She didn't turn back to see if he was following, so he followed, intent on being as obnoxious as possible. It was something he'd found himself to be very good at.

When they were out of sight of the servants and guards, Yoruichi took a quick glance back at him, gesturing for him to come closer. As he drew even with her, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him off the path, into a big stand of thick, scratchy bushes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as she struggled to shove her way through to the hollow created by the branches close to the trunk.

"What does it look like?" she retorted, shooting him a glare that clearly said, 'be quiet and keep up'. "I'm trying to get out of this kimono. I feel like a trussed pig."

Even as she spoke, her rough little hands were stretching and straining to reach around her back and pull at the cords holding her obi in place. She managed to catch the tail of one end, but couldn't get her fingers on the knot.

With something between a sigh and a grunt, he batted her hands away, and tugged the knot loose with only a few pulls. Together they unwound the obi and pulled out the padding and peeled away the kimono and soon she was standing in her white linen underclothes, hopping around on one foot as she pulled off her sandals and socks.

"Me next," Kisuke told her, when she'd picked her now-useless outfit up off the ground: neither one of them would be able to retie the obi.

"You next what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I helped you," he pointed out.

She stared at him. "You're yukata ties in the front."

He began to whistle, lacing his fingers together behind his head, clearly displaying the fastenings of his little blue robe.

While muttering things like "useless", "lazy", and "stupid", Yoruichi bent and unfastened his yukata. He kept whistling until she undid his hakama.

"There," she announced, straightening as he shrugged out of his clothing. He almost tripped more than once stepping out of his pants.

"Right," he said, dusting off his garments and slinging them up beside hers. The gray-blue clashed very badly with the sunny yellow and grass green of her kimono and obi. "So what are we doing now?"

"Something better than sipping tea," Yoruichi replied, crawling on her hands and knees through a tiny hole on the other side of the hollow: it just _happened_ to be a hole in the estate's outer wall as well.

On the other side of the hole was a shallow, muddy channel that ran around the back wall and off into the distance, disappearing into the trees that marked the edge of the Shihouin lands.

Kisuke took a good look at the mud – it had rained recently – before turning to glance at Yoruichi. He gave her a long, searching look before saying; "You're going to get me in trouble, aren't you?"

* * *

AN: The beginnings of what I hope to be a fic of around 10 chapters in length, focusing on key points in the development of the friendship of Kisuke and Yoruichi. How am I doing so far? 


	2. A Fight

**Secret Worlds: A Fight**

_Lord protect me from my friends, my enemies I can handle._

* * *

Kukaku was muttering obscenities and half-veiled threats, but she wasn't about to break the fight up herself, and it was really more for show than to accomplish anything. The possibility of getting knocked in the head by one of the children's kicking feet or flailing fists was not at all worth getting out of the little trouble she would be in for letting things get so far out of hand. _Really!_ she thought to herself. _I turn my head for two seconds! Weren't they playing tag? _In truth, she couldn't remember what they had been doing and at this point she really didn't care. She was _not_ going in there. She would get scolded, surely, but no punishment would be forthcoming, and Kaien would do no more than shake his head in exasperation and tell her to watch more closely next time. She was content, for the moment, to sit with Ganju on her lap, clapping and gigling away like the happy little toddler he was, and watch the ball of kicking, screaming limbs roll around in front of her.

If they'd been any older, it wouldn't have been quite so entertaining. Byakuya, sitting quietly and politely beside her, was following the fight with his eyes, looking a little anxious. He knew someone was going to get in trouble, and he didn't like the prospect one bit.

It wasn't until the fathers of both the brawling children wandered around the corner that Kukaku finally sprang into action, leaping to her feet and making a show of shouting, obviously trying to put an end to the nonsense but unable to for the child in her arms.

Kisuke's mother, trailing behind her husband and talking quietly with Kaien, was the first to notice what was happening, and she screamed as though she had discovered her defenseless son being mauled by a rabid animal, startling the men around her.

Yoruichi was sometimes comparable to a rabid animal, but Kisuke was in no way defenseless. Kukaku knew for a fact that noblemen were taught from a very early age not to hit women - or girls, as the case was – but either Kisuke hadn't learned the lesson yet, or he didn't care, because he wasn't pulling any punches. Probably the latter, Kukaku decided to herself.

In any case, the moment the lady had shouted, Kaien was bolting for the dirty, tangled mass of children, reaching them just in time to catch Yoruichi's swinging fist before it could land another blow, pulling the girl bodily off her opponent by the back of her yukata.

She squealed in protest, kicking at the air, struggling to get back into the fight. Only a strong arm on Kisuke's shoulder kept him from launching himself at Yoruichi.

Both children looked wild. They were covered in dirt and grass, wide-eyed and feral and breathing hard, glaring at eachother as Kaien demanded what they'd been about, fighting like that. Blood was trickling down Yoruichi's chin from a lip that was split in three places: the entire lower half of Kisuke's face was covered in the sticky, red stuff, which was flowing freely from his nose. One of the princess' eyes was turning black, and there was a large bruise spreading across the right side of the boy's face. Neither child seemed to care, or even to notice

By this time the parents had arrived. Kisuke's mother was quick to kneel and take her son in her arms, cradling him with care as she cooed and fussed over his injuries. She threw Yoruichi a very dirty glare over her shoulder that didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Yoruichi's father started laughing.

"I fail to see what's so funny!" Kisuke's mother shot, standing, one arm laying across her son's shoulders. "Your daughter just – she just – she assaulted my son!"

"She beat the _hell_ out of him!" Yoruichi's father crowed with pride, dropping a hand on his daughter's head to ruffle her already mussed hair with as much affection as the gesture could convey.

Yoruichi gave Kisuke a haughty smile and stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

AN: Yeah. Lol. Consider the ages slightly fanwanked. Kukaku's not more than a few years (or whatever the unit of time is in Soul Society) older than Kisuke and Yoruichi, and Byakuya should only be a few years younger. I wanted baby Ganju, though. The idea tickled me. You know he'd be a HUGE kid. 


	3. A Drink and A Kiss

**Secret Worlds: A Drink and A Kiss**

_Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing._**  
**

* * *

"This was a bad idea," Yoruichi groaned, arms clamped tightly around her stomach as she sat, huddled in on herself. Kisuke, laying on his side a few feet away, shivering like it was the middle of winter, gave a grunt that couldn't have been anything but agreement. "Terrible," the Princess continued. "Worse than kissing."

"I still maintain we were doing that wrong," Kisuke mumbled, rolling onto his back with a pained grimace.

"You keep saying that," she interjected scathingly, "but you don't say how."

"I dunno," Kisuke continued to mumble. "There was something with… tongues, and hugging eachother real tight. We didn't do that."

He had the grace to blush when Yoruichi raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he demanded, sitting up on his elbows to glare back at her. "Look, you asked. I saw tongues, and I saw hugging, and all _we_ did was put our lips together."

Yoruichi made a face. "That was unpleasant enough. The last think I want is your tongue in my mouth."

Kisuke laughed, and replied, "Wait until I tell you where babies come from," before groaning again, because laughing had hurt.

"You don't know where babies come from," Yoruichi stated disbelievingly, staring at him with wide, almost hopeful eyes.

He _did_ know, and he told her.

Again, she was staring at him, but not in the superior way she usually did, when she knew she was right and he was as wrong as wrong could be.

Finally, she said, "Eww."

"Suddenly tongue kissing doesn't seem so bad anymore, does it?" Kisuke wheedled with a tiny smile on his face.

Yoruichi continued to stare, and then –so suddenly he thought he was imagining it – a broad, knowing smile broke out across her face. "You're such a liar," she said teasingly, still smiling at him. "You _want_ to kiss me! You _want to put your tongue in my mouth_!"

This time, the blush was brilliant. Yoruichi remembered it for a long, long time, because that particular shade of red so rarely crossed his face. She fell over laughing – then had to stop to moan and groan and curl into a tight ball as her stomach and head protested the sudden movement.

When the laughter and nausea and pain had subsided, and she could see straight again, Yoruichi rolled over onto her other side to face him. Kisuke was still on his elbows, frowning hard at her through his flushed cheeks, daring her to make fun of him. With that same knowing smile still in place, she wriggled over to him, pressing close against his side.

He tried to scoot away, but she reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck, and said, "All right."

The blush subsided with surprising speed, and then he was grinning at her as if he'd known this was the only possible outcome, had planned it all the while and had only been playing along to make her feel more comfortable. Then he leaned over her, put an arm around her shoulders, and pressed his open mouth to hers.

Both of them had to admit that this was better than the first time. It was warm, and pleasantly damp, and they were _so close_ to something that they couldn't quite grasp yet; something that solidified as they reached for it, only to evaporate the instant their fingers closed around it.

Kisuke made a small, appreciative noise, and Yoruichi groaned in response.

Then she shoved him away bodily, flying to her feet to stagger a few yards away where she fell to her knees and threw up.

"That bad, huh?" Kisuke asked, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably.

"It's the liquor, you idiot," Yoruichi groaned, scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth. "Why aren't you puking?"

"You had more to drink, Yoru," he replied. "A lot more."

"This was a _terrible_ idea," she muttered, echoing her earlier thoughts.

Kisuke looked around, at a loss, before suggesting, "We could try making a baby."

Yoruichi's response was to throw up again.

* * *

AN: For Heligoland, whom I admire, and who wanted more. 


	4. Two Deaths

**Secret Worlds: Two Deaths**

_Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell._

* * *

She found him after the slow, long-winded, dragging, _painful_ ceremony, nearly an hour after beginning her search. He'd disappeared just as soon as everyone had offered their condolences – she with her parents, standing a polite distance, taking his hand in gentle fingers without so much as a squeeze to convey her sympathies before being swept along the line – and she hadn't seen him since. She'd searched through the house and grounds, poking into every room, beneath every piece of furniture, combing the grounds meticulously until she was sure she'd trampled over every last inch of the estate, and she still hadn't found him.

It wasn't until, by some stroke of luck, she'd nearly been clocked in the head with a clay tile that she had realized where he was hiding. It had taken her a few moments to find a place where the roof hung low enough for her to reach, and even then the feat ended with an undignified scrabble to keep her hold, but once she had made it up it took all of half a second to locate Kisuke: his what haori and hakama stood out from the grey roof tiles like a bright light in the dark. He'd grown the last few years, finally overtaking her in height, but he was skinny as a bamboo shoot, and awkward, but somehow he'd managed to fold his long frame up into the tiniest space imaginable, his knees curled up against his chest, arms wrapped firmly around them, head bowed against his arms, blonde hair obscuring what little bit of his face was visible.

Yoruichi sat down beside him, curling up close against his shoulder but keeping her arms to herself. He didn't need coddling, and she wouldn't have offered it anyway. He needed someone to lean on.

"Have you been up here the whole time?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence.

He nodded into his arms, then pulled his head up to look at her, smiling ruefully. "Why do you look so sad, Yoru?" he asked. "Your parents didn't die."

Her parents had been dead for a while by then, but the comment still stung.

"Maybe I'll shave my head," he continued, reaching up to twirl a strand of golden hair between his fingers. "It's getting too long anyways."

She'd cut her hair the night her parents had died – with a tanto, in a fit of emotional rage directed at the rest of her nonexistent family but with herself as the only victim.

"Don't," she replied, combing her fingers through his long, messy locks. "Leave it long. It suits you."

"My mom kept telling me to cut it," he countered, and his voice was so even and congenial that Yoruichi felt her own breath hitching at the word 'mom'.

He heard her gasp, or felt it in the way her shoulder moved against his, and he unfolded with another one of those silly, lackadaisical smiles, and she wanted to punch him.

He could tell, apparently, because his brows drew down, but the smile didn't dissipate. "What's wrong?" he asked, nudging her playfully with his shoulder. "Come on."

"What's wrong?" she demanded in a hard voice. "What's wrong?! Kisuke, your parents just died!" He did frown then, and he turned away from her, hunching in on himself again. "You're acting like nothing's wrong!" she went on. "You're acting like you didn't just lose your entire family in less than–"

"I know," he broke in quietly, staring in the opposite direction. "What am I supposed to do? Cry? What good would that do? Everyone dies. I knew it would happen."

"It wasn't supposed to happen so soon," she said, her voice low, reaching out to pull him back against her. "To either of us."

Something coursed through him - it felt like a shiver – then both his arms came up to clutch at the one she had wrapped around his shoulders.

"It's not fair," he said, suddenly childish. "It's not fair. How could they die? They were all I had."  
She smiled into his hair, and said, "You've got me," and he broke. He turned in her arms, wrapping himself around her, pressing his face into the soft skin of her neck. He made no noise or movement, but she could feel the hot tears running under her collar.

Half an hour later when they climbed down from the roof, Kisuke's eyes were dry. With a sad, somber smile plastered across his face, he returned to the gathering to mingle with the other mourners, taking their continued condolences with gentle humility and gracious thanks. Yoruichi stayed just behind him the entire time.

That would be the first, last, and only time she ever saw him cry.

* * *

AN: I'm not dead, I swear! This one's a little more angsty than the last 3, but hey, it takes all kinds of events to shape people. I hope this isn't too OOC... but then again, that IS kinda the point of this chapter. More humor coming up next! 


	5. A Game

Secret Worlds: A Game

"Women and cats will do as they please..."

* * *

Byakuya and Ganju were both sitting idly by on the porch, their legs swinging in boredom as they waited for Kisuke to find the last member of their party. Kukaku was inside somewhere, sitting with her books; she had maintained to the very end that they were all too old for childish games, and that they didn't need her to watch them, and she thusly would have nothing to do with any of them for as long as she could possibly get away with it. Yoruichi was still nowhere to be found. 

Eventually the sun began to set, and Kisuke wandered back into the yard, at a loss as to where their friend had gotten. It really wasn't such a surprise that she'd managed to allude him this long, but usually she gave up the game by the time he was bored enough to stop looking. She wasn't taking any prisoners tonight, and no matter how they called that they'd all given up she never appeared.

"I'm boooored," Ganju whined, shifting in place. "Let's play something else."

"I should be at home," Byakuya added, as though it made some difference to Kisuke. "It will be dark soon."

"I'm sure the almighty Head of the Illustrious House of Kuchiki can stay out past sundown," Kisuke drawled, turning to face Byakuya with his hands on his hips. "Are they afraid you'll get mugged?"

"I'm going home," Byakuya replied, with nothing to indicate that he'd heard Kisuke's remark except a poisonous scowl.

Kisuke stuck his tongue out at Byakuya's retreating back, then turned his inquisitive, slightly predatory gaze on Ganju. Ganju stared back, eyes wide, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. There was something pleading in his gaze, and before another moment had passed Kisuke sighed and said, "All right. You can go home."

Ganju called his goodbyes as he scrambled away to collect his sister – who was, by that time, more than ready to leave – but Kisuke was already absorbed in a new pursuit: one that involved a much more thorough, slightly more thrilling search of the house, grounds, and surrounding areas.

It was easy, now, to gather reiatsu; to feel it flowing through him. He'd been trying that flash-step thing ever since Yoruichi had proven – against all odds, and her tutor's disbelief – that she was more than up to the task. He was having a little more trouble, much to his chagrin; not that it wasn't within reach - as was everything else he'd ever attempted - but just the fact that she'd gotten there before him rankled (just as the fact that he usually mastered kidou faster always rankled with her). They were forever competing in a race that had no end and no aim and no prize except the right to rib the other for falling behind.

He wouldn't be beaten today.

But just as he was about to Step away, something small and black jumped up onto the garden wall. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu, but it passed as the small black thing whipped its tail and coalesced into the form of a cat. It stared at him for a moment, its gaze eerily familiar, then it yawned, stretched, and curled up to catch the last rays of the setting sun.

As he watched the cat, Kisuke realized he had a choice to make. On the one hand, he could search for Yoruichi until he found her. On the other, he could focus all of his attention on the cat and count on Yoruichi's mile-wide jealous streak (along with her inability to go without being the center of attention for more than three minutes) to draw her out.

He went with the second choice, of course. He'd had Yoruichi figured out for years, and she knew it, and sometimes he was more than happy to play along, but he was feeling vindictive because of all the time he'd spent fruitlessly searching for her. Besides it was fun to watch her hiss and spit, too. If nothing else, he'd get a good fight out of it.

But as he was padding toward the cat, it lifted its head and _looked_ at him, and he knew. He couldn't possibly have said how he knew, or how she'd done it, or _why_ she'd done it, or why she was showing him, or why she hadn't shown him sooner, but he knew. She saw the way he paused – still for just a tenth of a second – and she winked at him.

Then she was off, on her feet – paws – and darting along the wall toward the house.


End file.
